Real Body Politic
by YakumoFujii3x3
Summary: With a thriving Roman Empire surviving into the 10th century and dominating Europe, it is not so easy for an Alban princess to avoid a political marriage as she might wish. Merida has to come to terms with her fate as a noble woman in a patriarchal age.
1. Chapter 1

Merida's joyful freedom and happy reconciliation with her mother lasted less than a week, for the day before the next sabbath, a Cog flying the Roman standard and the personal flag of Britannia's imperial governor pulled into the castle harbor.

The governor was ushered to King Fergus's throne room as quickly as protocol allowed. There the King bore an unusually grim expression that was out of character for the normally jovial monarch, and his family and court reflected his mood. This unannounced visit was clearly odd, and boded ill for things to come.

"Marcus of Londinium, why have you come here without warning?" the King asked bluntly.

"Because the crown prince bade me to," the governor answered evasively. He was in his late thirties, with a young face for his years, but hair nearly gone slate gray.

"Why?" He asked in annoyance. "Sending the Governor himself, rather than an envoy? That's beyond strange. What could possibly be important enough to warrant your presence here?

"The Prince was much delayed in his travel from Rome, and the message sent ahead to me in advance never arrived." Marcus replied. "That being so, I was ordered to travel here as fast as possible, and with orders to negotiate and offer all kinds of concessions if what we feared had come to pass. Thankfully, it did not, and this should be a much simpler matter for all parties."

The King furrowed his brow, "If what came to pass," he asked in confusion.

"Why the betrothal of your daughter to one of your vassals, of course", Marcus answered as if it was obvious. "The Prince has heard of her great beauty and high spirit, and would have her hand in marriage." A half-swallowed shout of disgust could be heard from the young woman herself, but the governor kept on talking "He invites you and your family south to Londinium to celebrate an Imperial marriage and to renew the bounds of comity between our people by bending your knee to the Senate and People of Rome has Alban Kings have done in centuries past."

"And should I refuse," the King growled with a dark smile.

"Then the Prince will visit DunBroch… with a large number of his closest friends and have the wedding here." The governor said, pausing in just the right places. "Of course, they're young men and rowdy. Who knows what trouble they could cause." He shrugged as if it was just one of those minor happenstances that trouble people from time to time.

"I drove a Roman army from Alba once before, and I can do it again." The huge King barked. A murmur raced through the court, his words energizing the crowd, an enthusiastic yes escaping his daughters mouth as she was swept up in the emotion.

Marcus gave a cruel smirk. "We both know that you were only able to do that by playing the Viking invaders against my uncle's army and the crushing the remnants after their battle. Clever strategy, no doubt about it," he admitted with an admiring tilt of the head. "But it only worked because the Emperor was in Mesopotamia fending off a great Sassanid invasion, while his brother was busy pacifying Saxon savages beyond the Elbe. My uncle Claud gambled by taking 10,000 men north to see if he could exploit the opening made by the Northmen's invasion. And he paid with his life."

The governor turned to the crowd, with a smile and arms open, "Prince Michael on the other hand, he can invite 100,000 of his friends to travel with him if need be, for the Empire is at peace. So, as you can see, the circumstances are quite different."

"I see," murmured the King with a frown. "Well, ambassador, you've given us much to think on." He said abruptly. "Let me discuss the matter with my family and advisors, and we will get back to you on the 'morrow."

The ambassador smiled at that and left with a flourishing bow as worried muttering swept through the court.

Once the Roman had left the main hall, the King got up from the throne and strode regally to a private office in the back of the castle, followed by his serene looking wife and seething daughter.

* * *

Merida was appalled. "How could you tell his ambassador yes!?" She shouted at her father, cheeks stained red with outrage.

"I merely told him I would discuss the situation with my family," the King replied reasonably.

"That's a yes!" Merida shot back. "If you were going to truly say no, you would 'ave told 'em so. Coming back here to consult with your family, that's a load horse dung,' she harangued him. "You meant you wanted to browbeat me into saying yes in private rather than havin' a screamin' match in public."

"Is it so wrong to wish to avoid embarrassment before outsiders," her father demanded as his wife wrung her hands in distress. She clearly wanted to interject, but seemed resigned to having to let this scene play out.

"What is embarrassing is you offerin' me up like a side of beef to our blood enemies, followed by the whole country for desert!" the redheaded princess seethed.

It was that or risk our family's destruction and the devastation of our people," King Fergus said wearily, a pained look on face that seemed years older than it had the day before.

"You defeated the Romans before, you can do it again," she insisted pleadingly, wringing her hands, desperate to change his mind.

All that could run through her head was that 'this couldn't be happening!' In the aftermath of the bear fiasco, her parents had promised her that she could marry whoever she wished. That was not even half a fortnight ago. And now she was to marry the Imperator, a man half again her age that she had never met. Crown Prince of Rome, reigning in stead of his aged father, Emperor in all but name of half the known world.

Her father shook his head and sighed. "It's not the same situation," he explained. "I didn't really beat the Empire, I just defeated the governor of Britannia." He looked off into the distance, preferring to look at the past, rather than the disappointed eyes of his daughter, brimming with tears.

"Old Claud saw the chaos the Norse invaders plunged the land into and sallied forth from Londinium to take advantage of it. No doubt he wished to emulate his namesake who conquered the southern half of the island a thousand years ago." He guffawed with disdain, "Well it didn't go like he planned. I outmaneuvered him and the Northmen so badly they ended up smashing into each other in surprise. Fought a brutal pitched battle that left the victorious Romans so badly weakened I swept them out of the country with ease." He paused and breathed in deep, "But the war only ended there because of the situation elsewhere in the Empire. The Emperor was fighting off a massive invasion of the East by the Persians, and his brother was defending the province of Germania from Saxon raids across the Elbe. Put simply, they were busy."

The King looked down at his daughter, shrugged his shoulders and told the truth. "And now, they're not. Their far eastern border is secure, the Persians lick their wounds and look to the fabled lands of Ind for expansion. Prince Michael has brought the Saxons to heel himself, pushing the border from the Elbe to the Oder. Norse raiders have turned away from the Empire to the lands of Rus, looking for easier prey."

Sad eyes bored into Merida's as he tried to impress the futility of the situation upon her. "As much as we would wish otherwise, Merida, their Empire is stable and prosperous, in better condition than it has been in a good hundred and fifty years. And when Rome is strong, all the small states on her borders can hope for is that the Emperor will be satisfied with making them a client state rather than going for outright annexation. So, as much as it pains me. I will bend the knee and give Rome my daughter and hope that is enough for Alba and my line to survive. Saying no will just bring the Prince to DunBroch in person, on a stroll from Londinum with fifty thousand of his closest friends, all armed to the teeth. All the while the Roman Navy will reap and reave the eastern coast, sinking ships and seizing ports, and landing tens of thousands more men. I might win a few skirmishes, but in the end DunBroch will be razed to the ground and I'll be dead. Your brothers hostages for life if they're lucky, and you my dear girl, you'll likely end up Michele's bride anyway, so why burn the whole country down and get countless thousands killed when the end result is the same or worse.

"Do it for honor!" She said, voice ringing with anger. "Have you no pride in yourself or your country? Abandon the castle if you have to, retreat to the highlands and wage a Fabian war from there. This is our homeland, we can outlast them." She declared with a dramatic sweep of the arm.

"So, you'd have us wage war for five years? Or ten, or twenty or more?" Fergus cocked a quizzical eyebrow at her. "It could work, but even if it does the dead will be numberless, the country in ruins and starving. And most likely it would not, the disparity in manpower is massive. Far larger countries than ours have tried this and failed. Just look at Gaul, Julius Caesar killed millions of Celts in his quest to force them into submission and now every person there speaks Latin and has for twenty generations."

"Your father's right, Merida," her mother said gently, breaking her uncharacteristic silence. "You don't understand the power of Rome. Gaul is vast country, prosperous and thickly settled. My father's estates were close to Paris, and you can't imagine how massive the city is. A hundred thousand people live there, and that's just a tenth the population of Rome itself. The Empire stretches the length and breadth of the world and rules over a hundred million souls. Gaul dwarfs Alba, and yet to the Empire it is but three provinces among dozens."

"But…" Merida sputtered. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to scream in denial, to rally them to arms and defiance. But she couldn't deny that what they'd said was true. Rome was a leviathan, one that had brought Alba to its knees in the past and could do so again. And if they misjudged the situation, she might never get up again and slip away into history like the Celtic Gaul of old.

"Please Merida," her mother asked softly. "This could save your country, save your family," she emphasized the last word.

Merida floundered, mouth half opened as she tried to come up with something, anything else. But all she could see in her mind's eyes was the castle in flames, her father run through with spears, and three small limp bodies in a bloody pile. "Yes," she breathed out, surprising even herself. "I'll marry him".


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Medieval views on sex, sexuality and privacy are odd by modern western standards and not well reflected in modern mass media. Some of Merida's thinking in this and future chapters may seem strange, but it reflects my understanding of the beliefs of the early medieval period. I am particularly indebted to the book _Sexuality in Medieval Europe: Doing Unto Others_ by Ruth Mazo Karras.

* * *

Londinium was an absolutely magnificent city, Merida thought in amazement as she gaped at the merchants displaying their wares from across the world in a vast Forum lined with brightly painted marble pillars.

Her family's party had landed at the Thames docks not long ago, and now rode over an avenue finely paved with fitted stone through the heart of the city, towards the governor's villa. It was a splendid mansion, overawed only by the towering dome of the bishopric's basilica across the square, the beating heart of Christendom on this fair isle.

'I'm in over my head,' the stunned red head thought to herself. 'Mother said this city has only sixty thousand people, and it's everything I thought a city was and more.' Everywhere she turned her gaze she saw crowds that would have filled DunBroch to the brim. 'Paris is more than half again the size of this city, and Rome ten times the size of that…' seeing it in person made Merida realizes how right her parents had been to give in to the Prince's demands. Opposing this sea of humanity would be like trying to hold back the tides.

The luxurious carriage they'd been given pulled up to the front of the villa, and as they exited it, a man in his prime with an entourage trailing him, came down the broad marble steps to greet them. His age was somewhere in the early to mid-twenties, but he held himself with assurance, projecting the power and reserved dignity of a much older man with ease.

Dressed in fine summer garments of thin wool and velvet, dyed in the bright red and gold colors of the Roman standard, he carried a sword of the Norse style at his hip, and the way he moved made it clear that he knew how to use it. He was half a head taller than Merida, lean and good looking, though not overly handsome in any particular way. He had a Mediterranean look to him and was clean shaven, with a strong jaw line and thick head of brown wavy hair. He had deep green eyes flecked with amber, and the way they looked at her, made Merida realize that he was the man she would marry.

Very few men dared look at her like that in DunBroch, openly appraising her appearance, looking her up and down and obviously liking what he saw. The stupid ones feared only her father, while the smart ones feared her as well. She knew it would be much the same here, with the Prince taking the place of her father in men's reasoning.

He smiled, and it looked good on him, lightening the seriousness that seemed otherwise engrained in him. "My lady Merida, you are even more beautiful than the tales say," he proclaimed, taking her right hand in his a giving a courtly kiss to the back of it.

"And what do the tales say my Prince?" Merida asked, her Latin lightly accented, cheeks flushing a light crimson. Her Alban suitors had not exactly been romantic, and such courtly introductions, though formulaic and clichéd, were but the stuff of bardic song and the boring etiquette guides her mother had forced her to read. No one had ever actually used them on her.

"Stories of a young woman as fierce and beautiful as Diana, and just as skilled with the bow." He gave a teasing grin that seemed quite out of character to the serious impression he'd first projected. She didn't know quite what to make of him. "I only hope you don't feed me to my hounds on our wedding night."

The red in her cheeks deepened at the double layered allusion to classic myth and the bedding that was to take place. "As my husband, you'd be in no danger," she replied with a dangerous smile, "your guests on the other hand, best stay behind the curtain if they know what's good for them."

"I'm glad the talk of your high spirt was not overblown," Michael said with a chuckle. "So many noble women in the Empire are timid things when they talk with me, endlessly flattering me and turning what little wit they have only on their perceived competition."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that." Merida replied. "I say what I mean and mean what I say."

"Sometimes she says a little too much," her father joked, breaking the ice and starting a cascade of introductions.

From there everything was a whirlwind of motion as the Prince led them on a tour of the governor's mansion. He took them from the imposing grand hall to the cavernous kitchens bustling with an army of cooks, and to every room of note in between. At the end showing them to their rooms, bedecked in imperial splendor, where their servants were hurriedly unpacking their things.

There he left the ladies to recover from the journey, and to wash and prepare for the formal dinner being held in their welcome.

After King Fergus and the boys had left for their own quarters, the Queen dismissed the servants for a moment and turned to her daughter with excitement. "That went well, don't you think?" she asked in her native Latin.

Merida rolled her eyes as she replied in Gaelic. "I suppose it did." She shrugged dismissively. "He was far superior to the three fools who tried to pay court to me back in Alba, but that's hardly a high hurdle to cross."

"Come now, Merida" her mother chided her. "There were definitely sparks between you two. He liked what he saw and even appreciated your sharp tongue."

"Looks like being a bit wild wasn't a problem after all," Merida said slyly. "If the Prince of Rome approves, it can hardly be wrong."

Queen Elinor gave her a daughter a look that made it clear she thought she was being stupid. "It might be intriguing to him now, but it will wear thin for him soon enough, and even if it doesn't, that kind of behavior will cause serious problems in the Imperial Court. You'll make enemies that are not needed, and cause problems for you husband when you should be supporting him instead."

"It's gotten me this far hasn't it?" Merida differed.

"Yes, we all know how you dreamed of living in a gilded cage as Empress of the world." was the Queen's sardonic reply.

The redhead furrowed her brow at that in confusion, "I may not have wanted this circumstance, but I do aim to make the best of it and I can't do that by pretending to be someone I'm not."

Her mother looked like she wanted to argue that, but visibly restrained herself. "Just promise to remember my advice if you find that things aren't going as well as you'd hoped."

"Of course, mother, I'll always keep your lessons in mind," the girl said. Which was true, she just wouldn't follow them most of the time.

The Queen seemed to accept that and changed the topic. "What did you think of the Imperial guest room?"

"It was fine, I guess," Merida replied, not really sure where her mother was going with this.

"Fine?" her mother asked skeptically.

"Alright, that was a bit of an understatement," the princess admitted. The room that the Prince was staying in had been more than fine, it was luxury personified and the furniture and decorations in the room where probably worth as much as everything in DunBroch castle combined.

"All those golden lamps and shinning brass mirrors, they'll reflect a lot of light don't you think," Elinor said in a leading on type of way. "And those bed curtains, I've never seen silk that fine. I think at best they could be described as…opaque, but a much more accurate description would be translucent. One wonders how much danger the witnesses will be in from the Imperator's hounds."

The blush from earlier returned to her cheeks. "As long as the curtains are drawn, they'll be safe from me," she repeated what she'd told her betrothed. "Really mother," she said looking at her sideways. "I'm not some gigglin' girl who can be teased into silence with embarrassment."

"Oh?" her mother asked. "Are you such a confident woman then?"

"What goes on in the marriage bed between husband and wife is a good and natural thing," Merida said, wondering what her mother was getting at. This was common knowledge after all. Whatever her mother's motives, it seemed an oblique attack of some sort and the redhead raised her chin in defiance. "And for two of such status as the Prince and I, it is only to be expected for the court to witness our union." She paused, then continued on matter-of-factly, "Being watched is something I'll just have to get used to, a grand palace like that, servants will be comin' in and out of the master bedroom at all hours of the day and night. I hear some even sleep on the floor to be on call any time."

"So, it looks like you have mature attitude on that matter at least," the Queen said approvingly, before pausing to go in for the kill. "Seems you've realized that in some circumstances you can't run wild after all."

Merida stared at her mother, head tilted to the side in thought. "I'm not sure I like what you're implyin' there." She said, anger creeping into her voice. "You don't seriously think I'd sic dogs on the guests, so what exactly do you mean by runnin' wild there, or by some circumstance for that matter?" A thought struck her, and she was appalled, "Do you mean the marriage bed in general? Do you think me a harlot, just waitin' for a chance to run around on my husband?" She asked in outrage. She'd never been more offended in her life.

"No," her mother answered emphatically, "but you are a spoiled young woman that has spent her whole life running off to do whatever you pleased, aided and abetted by your father." She spoke up, overriding Merida's attempt to interject.

"Your foolishness nearly got me killed recently," she jabbed her forefinger at her daughter, "but even that turned out all right for you in the end. I lived, and you got to say no to suitors you despised. You've had your way completely, until now. And now you have to marry someone you've never met and really know nothing about despite all the stories that travelers tell."

"Well I'll tell you one thing," Elinor continued ominously, "history echoes with the words 'the wife of Caesar must be above suspicion.' Galivanting off on your lonesome to go hunting, or mountain climbing or God knows what could cause a crisis of legitimacy even if there are no men involved. Suspicion runs deep in the Imperial Court," she warned.

"The Prince obviously doesn't suspect me off any impropriety, else the wedding wouldn't be tomorrow," Merida defended herself, off balance from this unexpected torrent of criticism. "He'd wait until after my courses came again, if he did."

"That just means his spies have good sources in DunBroch, but whatever he believes, he is still at the mercy of the opinion of the court. He is powerful, but he isn't all powerful, no man is. And if the Court believes you're adulterous, you will be lucky to survive the scandal without being divorced and exiled to a nunnery."

Merida opened her mouth, then closed it, not knowing what to say. After a discomforting pause, "I got it. I understand what you mean." She looked uncomfortable. "Did you have to go about sendin' the message like that though?"

"You marry tomorrow Merida, I don't have time to sugarcoat things and be gentle," Elinor explained. "I'll take whatever path necessary to hammer some sense into you, because your husband is going to be hammering something else into you tomorrow and then you'll have no more time for me."

Merida gaped, "Mother! How can you be so vulgar?"

"You're going to hear much worse tomorrow at the wedding feast," the Queen informed her. "The Prince's courtiers may feign civility when sober, but put a few cups of wine in them and they'll be as crude as any barbarian."

"Oh, well, I've heard worse from the maid's, I'm sure," Merida waved dismissively. "I was just shocked to hear it from you." She hoped the heat in her cheeks wasn't too noticeable. She had heard worse, truly she had, but that didn't mean that hearing your mother speak so, wasn't embarrassing. Especially a mother who was normally so prim and porper.

Elinor arched an eyebrow at that. "Have you really? And do you how much of what you heard was true, what part was exaggerated and what part was a tall tale to see how the virgin princess would react?"

Merida opened her mouth to insist that of course she knew what was what, but something about her mother's glare made her think better of lying at this juncture. "I suppose not," she mumbled.

"Because…?" prodded her mother.

"They always assumed you knew what they were talking about and didn't bother explaining anything," Merida complained, "and even the servants that are maids in all sense of the word seemed to follow the conversation along well enough."

The redhead frowned with frustration, "and I get it. Normal people grow up in a one room hut, and sleep on one bed with their whole family. They've seen their parents go at it, maybe aunts and uncles, or an older brother or sister with a spouse that's moved in. During the dark of night of course, but they get an eyeful enough to understand what's going on." She shook her head, trying to banish the image of her family in that situation.

She went on "Of course, I always had my own room so I never saw anything like that, but I've seen plenty of animals over the years, dogs, cats, horses, and other livestock. Surely that's close enough to give me some idea of what goes on?" she looked questioningly at her mother.

"Eh…" the Queen gave a little shake of the head, "not really. Oh, it approximates one way a man can take woman, but the reality of it, the intensity and the intimacy of the act cannot be conveyed. If you want me to give you a detailed, in depth explanation of what transpires in the marriage bed between a man and a woman I will, but just words or witnessing animals will not truly prepare you for the moment. And really, men prefer their bride innocent as can be, so why bother. I'm sure the Prince has more than enough experience to teach you want you need to know in a more, practical manner so to say."

Merida grimaced at the idea that she should remain ignorant for a man's sake, especially when he was so knowledgeable. "Exactly how experienced is he? I know he has a four-year-old daughter whose mother died giving birth, but I haven't heard about any other women."

"The stories say that he met that woman on the battlefield, a physician's assistant that helped him patch up a grievous wound." Elinor recounted, "But whether that's true, I can't say. She could have just been a camp follower he grew fond of."

Merida frowned, the thought of her future husband consorting with harlots disappointing, but unsurprising. Men were weak to temptation at the best of times, and military campaigns were surely the worst. The knowledge that one's life hung in the balance was always there and armies were awash with so called washer women, cooks and nurses who plied a more lucrative trade.

Her mother continued, "They say that was his first woman, which seems doubtful given he was nineteen at the time, but he had the reputation of a serious and studious sort even then. However, even if that's true, there's no chance that he would have remained celibate since her passing. Having tasted of the fruit once, there's no turning back. That we've heard no rumor of other women or scandal merely means he is discrete, a welcome trait in a husband for any women," Elinor concluded with irritation.

Merida's cheeks grew warm again, this time in heartfelt embarrassment for her mother. Her father was a good man and a good father, one who clearly loved his wife. But he was also a man of large appetites, and one to whom the words subtlety or discretion did not especially apply.

It was the way of the world, but it truly bothered Merida that men were allowed to behave so egregiously, wallowing in sin, with little censure from society; but Lord forbid that a woman stepped a hair out of line. As far as she could tell she'd been criticized far more harshly by her mother for speaking her mind, then her mother had ever criticized the King for his fornication.

"Discretion…" the redhead growled disapprovingly. "I suppose it holds some value, but I am not one to hold my tongue about such…immoral behavior. If I get a whiff of it, I'm goin' to tear into him." She declared with a decisive nod.

Her mother laughed, clear as chimes on a windy day. "I never thought you would. Just make sure that you only tear into him words, lest you be arrested for assault on his majesty." Then she looked imploringly at her daughter, "and make sure to do it behind closed doors, discretion goes both ways after all." No doubt she was envisioning a scandal of epic proportion should Merdia not heed her words.

"That it does," Merida agreed, but in a more vindictive vein than her mother. 'If he shames me in public, he best be ready to be called out in public,' she thought.

"I'm glad we had this talk Merida," Queen Elinor said. "Think on what I've said and your coming life. It can only do you good." She looked out the window to gage the height of the descending sun, "but the hour grows late. Let us prepare for the feast."

"Let's," Merdia replied, relived to end the awkward conversation, as her mother called the servants back in and began to plan their evening atire.


End file.
